Earring
by The Tiramisu Of Impending Doom
Summary: [Oneshot, VxT] She was missing an earring. . .


Earring

_Disclaimer: All properties of Final Fantasy 7 belong to Square-enix, but the fanfic is mine. Don't steal and don't try to flatter me by suing my punk-ass._

She was missing an earring.

Most people had the tendency not to notice such things. Arguably, Vincent Valentine was not like most people, and the fact that one of Tifa Lockheart's ears was bare when the other was not inexplicably annoyed him. Perhaps half-crazy, he swept curious eyes across the dimly lit sandy street to study the others. Someone else would have noticed this inane problem by now, wouldn't they?

But… he shouldn't have noticed, and now he regretted studying her so closely, helpless but to wonder what she was thinking and just as powerless but to imagine what her hair would feel like slipping through his disposed fingers. And in the same moment when he'd pictured that in his head, she'd tossed her hair over her shoulder, as though to appropriately refuse his desire. And he'd discovered in that moment that the dangling earring was gone.

Folding his arms, he turned suspicious eyes to the rest of the group. Namely Yuffie. Did the ninja girl steal earrings or just materia? It was almost impossible to tell when that girl was plotting trouble, especially in times like these when she was standing in her impatient way, her feet tapping the ground restlessly and her eyes fixed to the ground.

Nanaki stood beside Vincent tensely, as though he might have been suspecting thievery from the Wutaiian princess as well.

Vincent eagerly shifted his attention to the circle around Cloud—Barret and Cid stood by him readily, awaiting his orders, the darker man standing with arms crossed while the pilot lit up another cigarette, the lighter briefly illuminating his grim face.

They discussed the matter of who would accompany Cloud Strife in the next mission, which would require that they go under water in order to fight Weapon.

Vincent would have spoken then, to boldly suggest Tifa and himself, but his voice caught in his throat when he saw the brunette step closer to the group, perhaps to give her input on the matter. But that wasn't what troubled him. Even though she stood with her hands on her hips and her jaw set in determination, her eyes were red from crying, and the street lights set her cheeks aglow with her not quite dried tears.

Apparently very much aware of that fact, Tifa surreptitiously brushed aside the rest of the moisture with a careless hand, before returning to her initial pose.

He swept his eyes away from her obviously distraught face to carefully lock in on Cloud Strife instead, only half-listening to the warrior as he tried to determine the reason for her unhappy state.

Vincent considered for an instant that she was weeping for the earring she obviously lost, but dismissed that idea flippantly—Tifa Lockheart did not cry over ordinary jewelry, he was fairly certain. Then again… it could have been dear to her… belonging to a family member, perhaps. Or… maybe something on the matter of Cloud Strife had brought her to tears… or… she was possibly mourning once again for the dear friend she found in Aeris Gainsborough. Beyond the transparent fact that something had upset Tifa Lockheart, he had no hope of knowing just what that something was for sure… unless she decided to tell him, but he was not quite prepared to ask, and he doubted she was ready to enlighten him.

"…Alright," Cloud said, crossing his arms. "We'll rest here for the night… Vincent, Tifa, and I will head out to face Weapon tomorrow… Red and Barret will stay in the sub… and Cid…" He turned to face the pilot sternly. "I need you and Yuffie to guard the Highwind."

Cid smiled bitterly as he took a long drag of his cigarette. "Right, I thought you might say that, you little shit…"

Cloud shrugged. "Sorry, Highwind," he said, not sounding a whit apologetic.

"Guess I'll have to keep an eye on my stuff..." The pilot whispered loudly as he sent amused blue eyes the ninja's way.

Yuffie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I wouldn't dream of touching your stuff, Highwind. And... at least I don't smell like a nasty ashtray."

The disgruntled man dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "Nah... you smell more like… daisies… and all that girly shit. Stuff I have no need of understanding. The Highwind's better company than the rest of you numbskulls anyway," he added, and lazily started toward the inn.

"Ah, we love you too, Cid," Tifa said dryly, but her bright eyes and knowing smile held a tender quality that let him know that she meant it…

_Despite her tears,_ Vincent added inwardly.

"At any rate," Cloud remarked, "everybody rest up... It'll be a long day tomorrow."

Indeed it would be. And Vincent would have the pleasure of fighting beside Tifa, even if he had to share that joyous company with the more deserving Cloud Strife.

-

The next morning, the group retraced their steps down the path they originally used to get to town, only they would take more care to avoid creatures this time, since they would soon face the Weapon under seas.

Vincent trailed behind his companions, keeping an eye out for enemies even though he couldn't help but wonder about Tifa Lockheart's lost earring. Thoughtfully, he lowered his eyes to the ground, and after a few steps he paused suddenly at the sight just beyond one of his boots.

Atop the bed of damp earth rested the pearl earring, the shine of its polished surface distantly reminding him of a shooting star. It had a slightest tint of pink, not unlike the blush one often found on Tifa Lockheart's face. It made him blink in disbelief, and he narrowed his eyes at the thing, as though it would disappear if he looked any closer.

He glanced up briefly at Cloud and Tifa's retreating backs before impulsively kneeling down on one knee and removing the tear-shaped earring from the dirt with thumb and forefinger. Regardless of a sudden sense of satisfaction, he resisted an impending smile, and took a moment to wipe any other grime off the tiny earring with a corner of his cape before he closed his fist around the precious accessory and rose to his feet.

He took a few hurried strides to return to his place behind the group and dropped the earring into his pocket.

-

Much later that day, he kept his lips sealed about his discovery, even though there were many opportunities to return jewelry when the team reassembled on the Highwind.

He especially kept quiet when the crew gathered around for dinner. Standing just outside the room with his back to the wall, he crossed his legs at the ankle. He isolated the familiar hum of the airship from the voices within the hall, and kept his ears sharp for the one voice that truly mattered to him since… recently… or… maybe… since… he woke up from—

In any case, he heard nothing of Tifa's earring, but he could just picture her tilting her head to one side, combing a strand of hair behind her ear to once again show her unadorned ear... once again gone unnoticed…

He admitted that he often found himself staring into space, thinking more about Tifa Lockheart than just the lack of earring, like her smile or her spirit... her curious little murmurs he often heard when she didn't think anyone else could hear... her scent… her grace… her everything, as a matter of fact.

And so his thoughts drifted hopelessly, until the next sundown, when he finally deemed it a reasonable time—as good a time as any, he supposed—to return the earring.

-

He found Tifa Lockheart alone on deck, shivering, with her shoulders hunched and her arms folded over each other for warmth. The cool Februrary winds drew her hair from her face wildly.

He shut his mouth—he hardly realized he'd opened it until now—and took a few hesitant steps toward her—

And stopped... She was probably enjoying her time alone with the stars and the smell of the air and peacefulness. Did he have a right to take that away from her? Perhaps not, but he would only bother her for just a few moments, just to return the earring, and then he'd go back inside.

He'd mulled over this issue the previous night, knowing that something was bothering her but unwilling to ask, and even less unwilling to return what belonged to her.

And now... the sight of her shivering gave him another reason to speak. To tell her to... to go back inside? The woman knew how to take care of herself, he knew. The concerned sentiments would come out cold and patronizing, in his attempt to distance himself verbally even though he did indeed wish for her to... be warm... and... and safe...

He carried himself to her, his mind telling him to go back inside and hand the earring to someone who knew her better, who would return the jewelry to her in the morning. But the rest of him didn't want anyone else to interfere as if this were some sort of secret. And that part of him also wanted to tell Tifa that he would spend as much time as he pleased standing by her side. And maybe...

He grimaced. To think any further on it would carry him away from his original purpose. He had no idea such a simple thing would cause him such grief. And irresolution.

Even though he stood beside her now, she didn't take note of his presence. That suited the selfish part of him quite well, as he wanted nothing more than to stay as long as time would allow. He slid his gaze over to her downcast face, her lips slightly parted and her forehead crinkled in serious thought as her eyes fell to the railing.

So she wasn't stargazing after all.

He paid extra attention to her quivering lips for a moment, just before she sniffed and tears followed the curves of her cheeks, sliding off her chin to stain the front of her shirt, creating dark circles of moisture on the swell of her...

He quickly darted his eyes away and drew the earring out of his pocket, fisting it at his right side as he wondered how to begin. And then the words came to him, but they weren't the words he intended to say...

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

He'd meant to tell her that he found her earring, hand it to her, and walk away without another word or backward glance. But the question was one spoken in earnest, and quite frankly, he wanted to toss the earring overboard so he could focus on... more interesting things... Compulsively, he tightened his hand around the earring to repel the urge.

At the corner of his eye, he caught her moving sharply, startled by his presence. Like before, she hurried to wipe aside her tears and then wiped her hands on her thighs, as though that would destroy all evidence. But then he returned his willing regard to her face to find her wine-tinted eyes brightly burning with a mixture of anguish and surprise.

He suspected that his unrevealing expression made her change her mind about something, for she suddenly blinked as if freed of a trance and smiled warmly, belying the moisture still welling in her eyes and the redness of her nose and cheeks.

"I'm fine," she answered hoarsely, wiping at her nose and then glancing over to the door curiously, as though he'd brought the media with him.

"Um... Did you... need something?" she asked as her eyes returned to his face.

Need? Yes, he needed and wanted much. Inconsequential, because in that moment, he would only concern himself with one simple thing.

He lifted his hand, palm up, uncurling his fingers for her to see, and watched as her lips parted in a gorgeous smile and her delicately arched eyebrows flew up in surprise at the sight.

And then he made a comment as an excuse, one that might make him feel less of a fool if he spoke it so casually, as a person might return an item to a stranger in the street.

"You dropped this." With that coolly voiced statement about something possibly simple to her, unimportant to others, and most dire to him, he expected nothing else except for her to take the jewelry and perhaps thank him softy, as her personality would suggest, and then the moment would be over.

Her fingertips pleasantly brushed over his palm as she gathered the earring into her hand tremulously, closing her fist around the item before holding it to her heart. And then she met his steady gaze head-on, her own brown eyes shining and rimmed with newly shed tears. She shook her head then, her face suddenly filled with questions and wonder as her smile faded, only to return again.

"...Tifa...?" He questioned lowly as though her expressive face could not speak volumes.

She blinked and looked down, holding out the earring in a cupped hand reverently.

"The earrings belonged to my grandmother," she told him softly, as tears streamed down her cheeks again. He tore his gaze away from the tears, reluctant to follow their trek this time, and focused on the jewelry shaped with the likeness of a tear, sitting comfortably in the palm of her delicate hand. "Grandpa gave them to her on Valentine's Day... and..."

Wonderingly, he lifted his eyes to hers once more, discovering her attention glued to his face again.

"I... It's silly," she muttered suddenly. "I know they're just a pair of earrings, but..." A sharp breath came out of her then, a darkly humorous laugh of sorts. "I thought I'd lost it... and then I'd thought I'd forget her because of it... and then I told myself that I'd remember her, no matter what..." The smile that graced her pretty lips grew.

"No one noticed I'd lost it, I thought," she pointed out roughly, "even when I... I had my hair up... the other day..."

He remembered that most fondly, as the hairstyle had given him a better view of her face, but he still preferred the way her hair looked unfastened and free to fall about her face and shoulders... It would be best if he never told her that...

"And now you found it, Vincent," she added unnecessarily.

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, he dragged his attention away from her to study the floor, and turned to go inside. Remembering, he turned in mid-step to find her precisely where he left her, only her eyes held a certain warmth in them that stole his breath and made him forget what he was about to say.

And then he recovered, just barely. "You should come back inside," he murmured, perhaps in an icier tone than the one he meant to use. He certainly had little control over his behavior these past few days. Blinking somewhat dazedly, he lowered his eyes once more to inspect his boots.

"… Since… it's cold out here," he belatedly added, just loudly enough for her to hear.

Shaking his head, he turned once more to leave, only to be stayed by her hand on his sleeve. "Hey… Vincent," she said tentatively.

He slowly brought his attention to her face. She was blushing—not an uncommon sight, but… not an unbecoming one either. He was grateful to be able to appreciate her features in such a subdued light, but he needed to take care in keeping his own features schooled to a stony blankness.

"Yes…?" He asked.

She smiled at him faintly. "Thank you…"

He nodded again in response, and opened his mouth to tell her it was no trouble, but she interrupted him with a question, her dark eyes wide, as though ready to consume all the answers he held.

"Where did you find it?"

"…After Costa Del Sol... on the way back to the Highwind…" And then he realized that he revealed too much.

Her eyes went wider, if possible. "You mean… you've had it… since yesterday?"

Silence. He could not lie to her… not really.

"…Yes."

Her forehead creased in response. "So... why didn't you just give it to me when we regrouped?" Not necessarily a criticism of his choice, but still a challenging inquisition.

Why, indeed...

She thoughtfully bit down on her lower lip as she waited, and his mystified gaze came to rest there.

"It didn't seem like a good time to do so," he replied softly.

That wasn't much of an answer at all, and he expected her to scold him on that score, but she nodded in reply and granted him another one of her precious smiles.

"Well... you have perfect timing," she told him huskily.

He frowned at her, uncomprehending.

"What do you mean?" he asked a bit warily.

Then she put her hands on her hips, one hand still holding the earring in a protective fist. Her dark eyes sparkled with a chiding amusement. "Come now, Vincent Valentine... Are you telling me you forgot what today is?"

He turned his head slightly to regard the sky, thinking. "Today?" he repeated absently.

"Come on," she urged. "It's that... that day... with the chocolates... and the candy hearts... and pink and red... heart-shaped... lovey-dovey cards and... stuff... You know, the day with... your name in it..."

"Oh... _that_ day," he said dully.

He had indeed known, for Cid Highwind had made a crude remark about the holiday earlier, and the last several towns they passed had the pink and red decorations that Tifa described. But he had forgotten since then because other matters had taken precedence, and that… day... was not one he celebrated—as if he celebrated any day at all... He hated it, actually…

A day to tell your supposed loved one how you felt… Or how you thought you felt, before the cherished one would shatter every ounce of hope with a word or a simple action that told you that she didn't feel the same way as you... in such a way that might make you believe that you couldn't have anyone because of who... or what... you were...

Yes, he despised the cursed day with a passion, and all the foolish implications that went with it…

"Yes," she replied. She then made her face into a stony mask and adopted his expressionless voice for good measure, in playful jest of his bleak voice. "_That_ one."

He looked back at her soberly. "I didn't know," he lied.

And she raised an eyebrow curiously. "No?"

"...I'd… forgotten," he said ruefully.

"Hmm... well... that's okay, Vincent," she genially pardoned him after a moment.

He nodded and then opened his mouth to bid her goodnight.

"I'd like to give you something," she blurted suddenly.

"...You don't need to do that," he informed her, shaking his head. It would only be a waste of her time.

"Well... no... I should," she protested, and took a step closer, an action that tested his nerves.

He shook his head again, and she pursed her lips in determination to step even closer, so the tips of her boots touched his. And he might have stepped back then, except her hand came up to grasp the front of his cloak, to tug his face down to her level before she stood up on the tips of her toes to meet him, to lay a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek, barely an inch from his lips.

_Tingling_… He was tingling…

…And burning.

It took great restraint not to imprison her in his arms before introducing her lips to his. But he should not. _No, no, and no. _He would not take anything beyond the blessed kiss on his cheek, or the torturous scent of her hair to greet his sensitive nose.

He tightened hand and claw into fists while he waited for her to withdraw from him, which she did only seconds later. Her slender fingers uncurled against his cloak, slid away from him, and she stepped back. _Much too early,_ he thought remorsefully.

Then she smiled shyly up at him and stammered, "I guess I should... um... you know... go inside... since it's... cold… and... and stuff..."

_I could make it… warmer… out here…_

He almost shouted out in denial, more so towards his immoral thoughts than her comment, but he waited a moment to clear his thoughts and gave her a nod.

"Indeed… Goodnight, Tifa," he remembered to add.

"Goodnight, Vincent," she replied kindly. "Thanks again..."

"...You're... welcome," he answered tersely.

He was almost irate with her, for giving him something else to relate to this Valentine's Day, and more than likely the other ones to come... It would always be a joyous occasion for her and a sobering one for him. Or maybe... she didn't care much for the holiday either... now that he thought on it.

…But gods... he would find it difficult to remove the image of her kissing him out of his head...

Rather than watching her leave him, his feet were glued to the floor, and his abstracted gaze considered the place where she once stood. Her kiss still burned his cheek, and he resisted the compulsion to lift a hand to feel the place where she marked him. He waited until he couldn't hear the sound of her feet on the deck before bringing his wistful red eyes to the stars.

Best not to think about that kiss anymore tonight, or else he might formulate a few foolish ideas, more than he'd created already...

But... he hoped that Tifa Lockheart would lose her jewelry more often.

_A/N: Emerald Weapon sure does suck... That's probably why I neglected to go into detail on the battle… but I promise you that Weapon died painfully. Speaking of painful death…_

_…I despise Valentine's Day (or "Singles' Awareness Day," as one of my friends calls it). But yeah, hope that you all enjoy the despicable holiday with your honey if you have one, or with your __famiglia._

_I needed to write a Vincent-wants-Tifa story, not quite like J.A.F.R… I also needed to write of Tifa Lockheart's earrings. That's right, Square-enix. I said Lockheart, not Lockhart. Bastards._


End file.
